


Odd

by illhaveapepperonytogoplease



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, F/F, Humor, Tammy is not a happy tired person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illhaveapepperonytogoplease/pseuds/illhaveapepperonytogoplease
Summary: How Tammy found out Debbie and Lou were a thing. Back-in-the-day.





	Odd

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 13th fanfic so I'm really nervous about it (I'm not superstitious but yeah I am) and I can't thank everyone enough for all the comments and kudos on all my work, I love you all! I also want to throw in a disclaimer; the basic plot of this is inspired from a fanfic I read once and, for the life of me, can't remember the author or-shit-even the fandom it was in so some credit should go to the author I can't remember. I wrote this in response to Annie's comment under "Brotherly Love" and I hope everyone enjoys and has an absolutely amazing day :)

“Tammy? _Tammy_ -” The twenty-three year old blonde groans at the sound of Lou’s whispering voice, wondering what the hell she wanted at-she glances at the clock- _three_ in the fucking morning “-get up.”

“Mmm?” She hums, burying her face in the pillow as Lou shakes her shoulder. “What do you _want_?”

“Where’s the suture kit?” Lou asks, voice just above a whisper and Tammy groggily opens her eyes, barely able to make out Lou’s form in the darkness.

“What-”

“The suture kit. Where’d you put it?” Lou asks again, not sounding in immediate danger or all that concerned.

Tammy barely manages to mumble out a tired ‘ _Why_?’ as she tugs the blankets up over herself, never having hated someone so much in her entire life. She’d only gotten to bed two hours ago and she’d have to be out of bed in another three.

“Because Debbie popped hers.”

“What? How?” She sits up on the bed, confusion clouding her mind. “Those stitches have been in for less than six hours.”

“Yeah? Well, they pulled.”

With a heavy sigh, Tammy sits up and tiredly asks, “Where is she?”

“In her room,” Lou responds as if it’s obvious while Tammy gets out of bed, not really caring that she’s only in a thin tank and underwear, because it looks like Lou didn’t put much thought into what she’s wearing either-she’s in a barely buttoned shirt and lacey boyshorts.

“Why didn’t  _she_ get me?” Tammy asks as she trudges sleepily around the room for a second before she finds the medical kit that’d been picked out of a nearby hospital ten hours ago stashed under her bed, looking at the adjoining door between her and Debbie’s rooms, which, when she thought about it, made it odd that Debbie would get Lou instead of her. Lou’s room had been across the hall, they had specifically given Tammy the room next to Debbie’s in the event that the Ocean may need medical treatment throughout the night.

“Didn’t wanna wake you, I was already up,” Lou answers, trying to take the suture kit from her. “You can go back to bed now, just don’t hide it next time, okay?”

Tammy ignores the statement, not really sure what possessed her to hide the medical kit under her bed, and walks through the doorway into Debbie’s room. She’s sitting up against the pillows, blood on the sheets-which is going to be a fucking _nightmare_ to explain to the cleaning ladies-and a makeshift tourniquet tied around her ribs with what appears to be a hotel towel, a piece of cloth, and a toothbrush.

“Morning sunshine,” Debbie chirps, her smile way too bright for this hour. “I told Lou to get the suture kit, she didn’t have to wake you up.”

“How’d you pull your stitches?” Tammy asks, setting the suture kit down on the bed, motioning for Debbie to lay down on her back. The brunette had put in even less of an effort into dressing herself-she’s in a sports bra and underwear with an unbuttoned flannel around her shoulders.

Debbie mumbles something incoherently-and it’s probably a lie, if Tammy knows her at all-and winces as the tourniquet is removed, an ungodly amount of blood on the ruined piece of clothing that'd been pressed directly against the deep gash. Not one or two, but _all_ of Debbie’s fourteen stitches have been pulled, the area bleeding and irritated and undoubtedly painful.

“I’m going to have to restitch all of these,” Tammy says with a tad bit of resentment in her voice, looking at Debbie sternly, seeing her practically shrink back under her glare. “You’re running the risk of infection.”

Debbie raises an eyebrow, tilting her head sheepishly in a silent apology.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Tammy asks while she puts her gloves on, back turned to Debbie as she gets the supplies ready. Debbie doesn’t respond and when Tammy faces her again, she sees her glaring at Lou furiously. “Debs?”

“Huh?” Debbie’s eyes meet hers, the anger disappearing immediately, and Tammy looks back at Lou, who’s holding her hands up defensively.

_Odd._

“I asked if you had a nightmare.” Tammy begins to remove the ruined sutures, feeling Debbie tense beneath her fingers so she works as quickly as possible. “You didn’t scratch them loose-there's no marks.”

She mumbles something again and Tammy gives up on it, focusing on cleaning the wound with rubbing alcohol and the hotel towel, marveling at the fact that Debbie doesn’t even wince when the cut undoubtedly burns. She glances back down at the bloody mass of clothing that looks suspiciously similar to Lou’s boyshorts and decides to speak to her instead, “Why’s she have your underwear?”

Lou, for one who is normally so relaxed, looks tense when Tammy asks the question, blue eyes flitting between her and Debbie uncertainly before she slowly answers, “I...gave them to her.”

“Well she wasn’t really in any position to get up and steal them from you, now was she? I _know_ you gave them to her,” Tammy says testily, their secrecy and awkwardness unnerving her, looking down at Debbie as she asks, “Why didn’t you get me?”

“Lou was already up,” Debbie mutters, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“I’m right next to you-why’d you go across the hall to get Lou when I’m in the room next to yours?” Tammy asks, Debbie’s carelessness when it comes to injuries concerning her into anger because Debbie’s always the one to get hurt the worst and she’s the one who gives the least fucks about her personal health.

“I…” She trails off hopelessly, looking back at Lou with something close to amusement. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“But Lou didn’t have the suture kit,” Tammy says slowly, and maybe it’s her sleep deprivation but none of this makes any sense, the entire conversation is going in a big circle to nowhere.

“I know, I didn’t realize how bad it was bleeding until...she got the wrap on.” Debbie doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, which is uncharacteristic for her because Debbie could act better than an Oscar Award winning actress. “Maybe the stitches were bad?”

“No, I’m-not to sound too proud-sure they were good.” She knows damn well that she’d put those sutures in neatly, securely-she’d been a fucking medical student this time last year, she knew how to stitch someone up. There’s  _no_ reason they would’ve pulled unless Debbie was doing acrobatics or something. “How’d you even pull these, Debbie? Fucking...tai chi?”

“Tai chi can’t pop stitches,” Lou scoffs behind her.

“It’ll pull if she’s twisting or straining her abdomen,” Tammy says, facing Lou and for the first time tonight she takes in her appearance; she has blood smears on her hands and underneath the black button up that was doing a shit job at covering her pale chest.

_Very odd._

“Why is her blood all over you?”

“I helped her put the wrap on,” Lou says, subconsciously pulling her shirt closed.

“With your _chest_?” Tammy asks sarcastically, glaring at Debbie because she snickers and quickly stiffens when the movement disagrees with her open wound.  Suddenly, a bunch of things click; their half-dressed appearances, Lou so conveniently being awake when Debbie pulled her stitches, the blood-covered boyshorts, the weird feeling in the room, shit, the hickies on Debbie’s neck from two weeks ago when Tammy knew for fucking _sure_ that Debbie never allowed herself to get distracted by sex while she's scheming. “How did you tear your stitches?”

“I must’ve...gotten them caught on-on the sheets or-”

“On the _sheets_ or on _Lou_?”

“Tammy!-” Debbie begins, her voice trying it’s best to sound absolutely mortified by the very suggestion but not strong enough to continue on with the rest of whatever she was going to say.

“Debra Ocean, don’t you fucking lie to me, _how did you pull your stitches_?” Tammy asks, volume just below a yell and tone clearly leaving no room for her to back out.

“I…” She trails off, glancing behind Tammy and at Lou with apologetic eyes. “We were having sex.”

Tammy twirls around on the bed, facing Lou with a glare that makes the Aussie take a step back when Tammy, lowly and unbelievably angrily says, “I told her not to strain herself.”

Lou, after she's out of hitting distance, has the nerve to grin, hands up innocently as she says, “She started it.”

“Don’t even-”

“I’m serious, I was trying to-to be...good and then she pulled me in here-”

“And you _pulled_ her stitches out,” Tammy seethes, expecting something like this from Debbie, not Lou. Lou’s the level-headed and self-conscious and cautious one, the _last_ thing she needed was Debbie to mess that up.

“She _asked_ for it-”

“Somehow I doubt that she asked to be part of a fucking bloodletting ritual.”

“I-Deb?” Lou looks behind Tammy, staring at Debbie hopelessly. “You want to help me out?”

“No, I think you’re handling it great, honey,” Debbie laughs, immediately regretting it when blood oozes from her wound, red beads trailing down her ribcage.

Tammy takes a gauze pad and applies pressure, maybe a little too much but she’s certainly getting her frustrated point across, to the cut as she continues to glare at Lou, who finally caves under it and says, “Don’t look at me like that-it took more than _one_ , Tammy.”

“You know better,” she chastises because the three of them are close-apparently some  _closer_ than others-and they need to keep shit like this from happening, and normally Lou is on Tammy’s reasonable side. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Lou and Debbie always side together now.

“So does _she_ ,” Lou says exasperatedly, motioning towards Debbie with her hand. “Get on her ass, too-”

“I guess I’ll have to get in line.”

“-it’s her body, I don’t control what she does with it.” Lou clearly doesn't find Tammy’s snide remark amusing because now she's glaring at her with an equal amount of aggression.

“I’m sure you didn’t object to what she planned to do with her body, though, right?” Tammy asks, too tired and too frustrated to even attempt to see Lou’s side of the argument.

“I was on top, she didn’t have to do anything but lay there,” Lou defends, as if that justifies everything, and Tammy glares at her furiously both because she did _not_ need that bit of information and sex with stitches wasn’t safe, no matter what position you’re in. “Debbie!-say something.”

“It’s true, Tim-Tam,” Debbie says, enjoying this more than she should as she continues monotonously, sarcastically, “I forced her, she didn’t have a choice-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you and your stitches overpowered Lou and raped her-” Debbie snorts and Lou crosses her arms with an unamused glance at Debbie’s reaction “-she was high, I gave her pain killers-do you think anyone in their right mind would ask to be fucked when they have fourteen stitches in their ribs?”

“ _That_ one?” Lou arches her eyebrow and points at Debbie, who’s wearing an innocent grin that makes her look anything but. “Yeah, I’d think it.” Tammy doesn’t dispute that, because it’d been a dumb question she hadn’t fully considered when she asked it because-yeah-if anyone would have sex with sutures, it’d be Debbie Ocean. “She never even told me she was on pain killers.”

“Why do you think I didn’t feel the stitches come loose?” Debbie asks incredulously, tilting her head slightly so she can see past Tammy’s seated form.

“I thought you were a little preoccupied,” Lou snaps, and distantly Tammy wonders if this is going to be the rest of her life; listening to these two idiots argue like an old married couple.

“You’re good-” Debbie laughs, shaking her head a little “-but not _that_ good.”

“I never said-” Lou cuts herself off, crossing her arms petulantly. “Tammy, just stitch her up.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re concerned for her health?” Tammy asks accusingly, but begins to restitch Debbie’s wound, pulling the skin tight and making sure that they’re even, secure, and not uncomfortably stitched. Debbie and Lou remain quiet in the five minutes it takes Tammy to finish, the only sounds being Debbie’s occasional pain-filled gasps, and Tammy’s thankful for that, at least.

Debbie and Lou weren’t exactly a surprise, Tammy had suspected something from the day Debbie had introduced Lou as her ‘new partner’ that she found at a nightclub. But the fact that neither of them, who flirted shamelessly with everyone and were nothing if not confident, had ever said anything or explicitly done something that would immediately give away their relationship had kept Tammy from being sure in her suspicions.

Really thinking about it, it was pretty impressive; the three had been working together for a little over a year and all Tammy had been able to do was speculate.

“Okay, you’re done,” Tammy says with a sense of finality, looking at Lou when she asks, “Do you think you could refrain from touching her for one minute?”

“No,” Lou deadpans, uncrossing her arms and walking past Tammy as Tammy goes back to her room in search of ACE bandage. It takes her longer than a minute to find the rolls and when she returns, barely overhearing Debbie scolding Lou for doing something unholy with her tongue, the two are on the full sized bed together, making a ‘T’ as Lou lays vertically and Debbie uses the blonde’s stomach as a pillow, her legs dangling off the edge of the mattress.

If she wasn’t in such a bad mood, Tammy might’ve taken a second to appreciate how at ease they looked together with Lou’s fingers combing through Debbie’s brunette hair and the Ocean resting her cheek against Lou’s flat stomach, the tiniest of grins on both their faces.

“Sit up,” she orders, picking up the antiseptic and gauze pads, returning her gaze to Debbie when she’s in an upright position. Without another word, she places the pad against Debbie’s wound and tapes it first, before glancing back at Lou, who’s watching them with mild concern. “You want to help?”

Lou sits up wordlessly, taking the ACE bandage when Tammy hands it to her, making sure it’s secure, slowly unrolling it against Debbie’s back until it’s in the front and Tammy unrolls it further, anchoring the bandages underneath Debbie’s breasts. They continue until the bandage has wrapped around her three times-a little excessive, but so is having sex with fourteen stitches.

“Thanks Tammy,” Debbie says once she steps away, packing up the medical box neatly.

“You owe me a good fucking night of sleep.” Tammy glares at her, but can’t contain the smile tugging at her lips when she notices the bite mark on Lou’s collarbone. Now that she’s not unbearably frustrated about having to get up and stitch Debbie because she'd carelessly been having sex, she could _definitely_ see Debbie forcibly dragging Lou into her hotel room.

“Yeah yeah.” Debbie flops back onto the bed, which is certainly not good for her new stitches, and Tammy glances at Lou, who’s still sitting down next to Debbie.

“You staying here?” Tammy asks, snapping the medical box shut.

“Planning on it,” Lou responds evenly, arching her eyebrow in a way that just screams ‘ _fight me._ ’

Tammy huffs, choosing to save that battle for another day, and instead says, “Next time, tell me you’re fucking so we don’t have to get three hotel rooms instead of two.”

Debbie laughs out an “I’ll keep that in mind” as her foot travels up and down Lou’s thigh absentmindedly, who probably doesn’t even realize that she leans into Debbie’s touch.

“I’m serious you two-” Tammy stops in the doorway, holding the door handle with one hand and the medical kit with the other “- _behave_.”

“Okay,  _Mom_ ,” Lou groans, stilling Debbie’s wandering foot with her hand, not being able to see the way the brunette pouts because she’s facing Tammy. “Sleep well and-” In a very Lou thing to do, she nods, barely tilts her head back at Debbie, and slightly smiles her thanks.

Tammy closes the door, throwing the medical kit on the nearest chair and collapsing onto the bed, not even pulling the blankets up around her, but unable to fall asleep right away because she can hear Debbie and Lou talking, sounding like low murmurs through the wall, and the occasional laugh.

It, in all honesty, is a horrible idea-those two.

They’re both heartbreakers, loners, incapable of committing to much more than a favorite clothing brand. They’re the Titanic and it’s just a matter of time before they break in half and sink.

Tammy doesn’t know much about Lou’s history, but there’s something dark and mysterious about her around the edges, much like Debbie, and if her reason for being dark and mysterious is anything like Debbie’s, then they’re fucked, utterly fucked. Debbie’s edge came from her childhood; growing up with an abusive father and a mother who disappeared without a trace, being raised as a tool in the Ocean’s criminal empire. God knows where Lou’s dark side came from, with that Australian accent and no legal form of identification, no American paperwork, nothing.

They’re both young-younger than Tammy and nowhere near as romantically functional-and that’s a problem, too. Debbie had turned twenty-one the past spring and Lou’s turning nineteen in less than a month, even for normal people those aren’t typically the prime ages for commitment.

 _They better know what the fuck they’re doing_ , Tammy thinks to herself, knowing Debbie sure as hell didn’t. Debbie preferred to have a general outline of a plan and then improvise the rest so Tammy couldn’t imagine her thinking too hard about what she's doing with her con partner fuck friend. And Lou, if she couldn't see the danger in sleeping with Debbie, obviously hadn't put much thought into it, either.

 _They’re going to be the death of each other_.


End file.
